Various Artists

Johnny Cash Remixed

I've been scouring the book of Revelation for some mention of this album, figuring it had to be the soundtrack to the Four Horsemen's scourge or maybe the eight-track in the seven-headed beast's '66 Camaro. But no, Johnny Cash Remixed is nothing quite so earth shattering or notable. It's more like a small, remote geyser through which a little bit of hell bubbles up into our world. Don't get me wrong: I don't consider Cash's persona or his music sacrosanct, so I have no reservations about any artist wildly re-imagining or remixing his songs. In fact, the Man in Black has become such a paragon of Americana ideals that a little pedestal wobbling could be more than welcome. We need a new way to look at Cash and his music, but Remixed isn't it.

These artists are engaging more closely with the myth than with the music, which means this project, dubious even at conception, becomes just another needless attempt to argue for Cash's relevance. Alabama 3 are the worst of the lot, continuing their streak of lame hick-hop gothicisms that started well before their overrated "Sopranos" theme. They rewrite "Leave That Junk Alone" as a startlingly obvious cautionary tale in which they play the junkies that saintly J.C. must counsel. Never mind that Cash was never so saintly, that his own battles with that junk were more complicated than a standard recovery narrative would suggest, or that such ambiguity was key to his lasting appeal and moral authority. Instead, Alabama 3 give an overly simple portrait of the man over tired beats, and it's not hard to imagine him rising from the grave to counsel them against creating such junk music.

Not simply unnecessary or misguided, Johnny Cash Remixed actively degrades Cash's legacy by showing how silly he sounds in such a determinedly modern context. And by "modern" I mean circa 1999. Midnight Juggernauts remix "Port of Lonely Hearts" with ethereal voices washing over the verses, and it might appeal to someone who still spins Play on a regular basis. At least it doesn't sound like Voodoo Child: Cash's "Get Rhythm" is so peripheral to the big beats of Philip Steir's remake that you could conceivably insert any song-- "Umbrella", "Hey Ya!", "Yes We Have No Bananas"-- with no noticeable change. Hey, Philip! Get rhythm. Pete Rock's take on "Folsom Prison Blues" sounds inspired by Jon Spencer's risible remixes of R.L. Burnside, leaving Cash to sound like he singing from a stalled Ferris wheel rather than from a dank cell, and Sonny J remixes "Country Boy" to sound like "Cotton Eye Joe" by Rednex. Listening to it is like looking deep into the abyss and feeling only the coldness of cosmic solitude. You live alone, you die alone.

Obviously these aren't the most innovative artists anymore, which leaves you wondering what someone like Dan Deacon or Girl Talk or the Avalanches might do with this raw material. The biggest name here is Snoop Dogg, who actually gets a producer credit despite being on autopilot for the remix of "I Walk the Line" by QDT Music (DJ Quik, Dogg, and Teddy Riley). Says the rapper who recorded Doggy Style: "Big Snoop Dogg. Johnny Cash. Remix. 'Walk the Line'. Yo, Johnny, talk to 'em for a minute." Responds a sample of the guy who recorded At Folsom Prison: "I keep a close watch on this heart of mine..." It's an absolutely ludicrous moment in a relentlessly ludicrous song-- a parody of hero worship. But at least we'll get to see the pool this project helped pay for on the next season of Fatherhood.

So why doesn't this hell geyser get the full 0.0? Mainly for Count De Money's "Big River", which leaves that junk alone and subtly ratchets the Tennessee Two's rockabilly rhythm into a spry programmed beat. Despite retaining Cash's original vocal track, this remix says more about Luther Perkins and Marshall Grant than it does about Cash, specifically the way they were able to twist guitar and bass into an insistent, organic stomp. Not that you need this remix to point that out. Despite its redundancy, at least "Big River" has something interesting to say about Cash's music. That makes it an anomaly on an album that relies almost solely on received wisdom and perpetuates a tired hagiography that makes Cash seem less human with every year. The Cash boom is over. The Cash boom is over.